Through Peeta's Perspective
by ashlynnreader
Summary: Hunger Games rewritten through Peeta's perspective starting the night of the reaping. Ever wonder what was going through Peeta's mind when he got reaped? Or how about when Kaniss volunteered? Want to know what Peeta's prep team was like orwhat was going on in his head during the games because who knows what was going on when he was with the Careers. Answers all and more!postsweekly
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Hunger Games nor do I any of Suzanne Collins' characters. This is my first fanfic and I plan on updating at least once a week. If I don't have a couple of review's letting me know that someone is reading it and that you would like me to** **continue to update and post new chapters each week then I will stop adding to the story. ;) thanks**

**P.S I need Capital-esk names for Peeta's prep team so I'm willing to take any suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

Cold. Sweat. Hunger. This is what I feel as I run across the rocky mountain terrain. The edges of my vision are fuzzy and I don't know why but I feel propelled to run. All I know is that if I don't continue to pump my legs and will myself to keep moving in a hurried fashion, that my life could be in grave danger. I start to feel the effects of sleep deprivation and lack of nutrition but I still continue to run. Suddenly I start to panick and for some reason that I cannot possibly explain, know that this powerful force that I'm fleeing from will soon catch up to me. I immediately run faster and faster untill I'm at a dead on sprint. I'm soaked in my own cold sweat and my clothing is saturated in the smelly, sticky moisture. I now take in account of my attire-my bakery uniform; flour covered apron and all. A wave of confusion washes over me and then I progressively begin to slow down. Although I know I something is after me, my legs won't move at all, like they have turned to jelly and I no longer have control over them. I collapse atop a small boulder on the side of the mountain and I know it's the end. My palms begin to sweat and I feel like I have a swirling bubbling energy in my stomach and I feel my heart drop. My attacker comes barreling into view bringing down plant life as he comes towards me leaving behind a path of mass destruction. His gruesome face pricks my memory but I cannot place a name for it. His hair is a startling shade of crimson red, a hue that seems much to bright a shade for a natural head of hair. It's all disheveled and filled with rock debris and leaves. He has large, angry eyes the kind that made me think that he was on the brink of insanity. The dark orbs are charcoal black and resemble the color of coal that district twelve miners mine. He has pale skin and a creepy smile plastered across his face, one that you'd most likely find in an asylum of some sort. This smile was now replaced with a smirk as the teenaged boy saunters over to me. In his hand he holds a lethal looking mace. I finally regain power over my legs and try to stand up but it is a wasted effort for my assaulter quickly pins me down again. I am surprised by how easily he does this but after a blunt assessment of my physical state I find that I look incredibly Immaceated and weak. The boy whips the mace high above his head and my heart is beating so loudly I can practically hear the frantic thumping and feel the vibrations in my ears as he proceeds to bring down the weapon intent on bludgeoning me to death. Right as the mace was about to make purchase on my face and contact with it I hit my head on something-hard.

I finally open my eyes and am up with a jolt no longer in that groggy, in between consciousness state of waking up. My breathing is loud, deep and quick like how it is after a long run. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, pumping throughout my body making me ultra aware of my surroundings and giving me the need to move around. Although I can still feel my heart beat pulsing in my eardrums it begins to slow. My adrenaline high is soon replaced with exhaustion and hits me light one of the capitals high-speed freight trains.

'It was only a dream', I think, all a fabrication of my imagination and I was not, in fact, actually in the Games-the Hunger Games that is, but sleeping not-so-soundly in my own bed in my own home in my very own district. In my nightmare the boy sent out to kill me, murder me, I mentally correct myself, was just last years victor of the 73rd Hunger Games.

Momentarily, I let out an inner sigh of relief until I remember what day it is-Reaping day. A dreaded day for everyone in Panem, well in the districts at least. It is the annual day when one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen are chosen to partake in the years annual Hunger Game. The children picked or reaped through a raffle like fashion are called tributes, and each year twenty-four are picked to go into the Games but only one ever survives long enough to come out. The last tribute standing wins this nefarious game and is crowned the victor and is guaranteed an easy life of luxury, fame, and fortune. This terrible ploy is presented as a festivity, an event worth celebrating, when really its just a retched punishment for a rebellion that had outbreaked across the districts against the one and mighty capital. This is why capital citizens truly believe that the Games are a joyous occasion and also why their children are the only ones safe from this cruelty. In our sick, twisted society, twenty-four of our oh so great and powerful nation are forced into an arena controlled by the very vial people who subjected them to this cruelty and forced to murder one another as punishment for a supposed "crime" that they weren't even alive for to commit. In addition, if this isn't enough torture for both the tributes, their families as well as their friends and all others affected, these Games are televised and are mandatory viewing for the whole country and are to be treated as a happy occurrence. Well happy hunger games to you too. Unlike those in the districts that statement is not a sarcastic remark in the Capital, but a genuine well wishing as honest as the old greeting of 'Merry Christmas'. I for one do not agree with the Capital and am most certainly not embracing it but, have come to my senses and accepted the fact that there is nothing I can do to change it and no point in fighting it. As I ponder my thoughts on the Games I get up and ready for my early shift at my family owned bakery. There is no point in trying to go back to sleep because more nightmares are sure to come and terrify my subconsciousness as they are no doubt doing do in every other eligible tribute across Panem. I put on my work uniform, which basically consists of a cotton t-shirt, tan khakis, and a standard white apron. Although all of my clothing is clean and washed its still is covered in flour, one of the small misfortunes of being a baker. After I am finished dressing myself for work, I quietly leave the small bedroom shared between myself and my two older brothers and head down the stairs to the bakery. My family and I, my mother, father, two older brothers and me, live in a small apartment above my father's bakery. Although its not a fabulous lifestyle, it's better than most in district twelve-far better than those led in the seam like Katniss Everdeen. However, she does get by, quite nicely, it is at the fate of her own hunting abilities. After Katniss' father died in a horrible mining accident, the little twelve year old girl, the love of my life, had the unpleasant and immensely pressured task of becoming the main supporter of the family bestowed and thrust upon her. Although she doesn't even have slightest clue that I exist, I admire how she handles and manages her family so well. Ever since the day my father pointed her out to me that first day in kindergarten, I knew that she was special and the only girl for me. I could go on for hours just describing her voice and possibly forever if I was asked about her angelic singing voice. I can account everything from that day or any day that she has been involved with in my life. It's peculiar to think that I can't even remember what I had for dinner last night, though I can fully describe a time from two years ago when her eyes met mine for a split second in the hallway after fourth period and that she was holding her arithmetic book and lunch pale. I know that she was wearing a plaid red dress with two braids instead of her usual one one the first day of kindergarten. I remember that during the first music class our teacher, Mrs. Fraiser, asked after introduction who knew the valley song and Katniss' hand shot straight up, the first one. I can safely bet my life on it that when she sang the valley song all the morning birds stopped to listen until a good whole minute after she was done and that her voice was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard and if someone told me that in that moment I was in the presence of an angel I would believe them. So one may find it odd that I cannot remember my birthday party from last year or my best grade on an exam but I can account every second from a short situation when Katniss happened to run by me to class or what she ate at lunch but it's not strange to me at all it's just the way I work when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Shout out to JasNorden352 for being the first person to review my story thanks a lot!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its characters.

As I go through my usual routine at the bakery my mind is given space to ponder. My stomach has been in knots all morning churning at the thought of not my own but Katniss' chances of being reaped today. I know that she has signed up for treasurae as she has done so in years past, but as I think about how many times that might be I have given myself excess stress and immense worry. Of course Katniss can handle herself out there, my fathers squirrels which are killed neatly in the eye every time are enough to prove this, but I still don't want her to go through the emotional pain of the Games. Victors of the Games never ever seem exactly mentally stable after entering the Games, it's just a matter of hiding it well. For example, victors like district four's Finnick O'Dair come out like nothing's wrong, while his girlfriend, Annie Crest, has gone completely insane after competing in the Games due to the mental challenges that had hit her like an emotional typhoon. Heck, our only alive district victor has turned to drink and it has to be for a reason, and I'm guessing it's a safe bet that it's due to the Games. So sure I know that Katniss is a skilled and talented hunter and could last long-no win the Games, but that still doesn't mean I don't want her exposed to the emotional battle that also takes place. Sure, I'm worried for myself as well, but my mind keeps going coming back to her because I don't know what I'd do if she died a vicious, unnecessary death. As I think this I shiver and develop goosebumps all up and down my arms. Before I realise it, I have already put five perfectly oval-shaped loaves of bread into the oven. It's funny to think that tasks such as these require much skill and are considered craft of an artisan and I can perform and complete them effortlessly, and without even thinking about it. Kneading, shaping,-baking, just comes naturally to me. In fact, I had once created fifty sugar-cone flowers for a display cake in less than half an hour while, all the whole time thinking about her and how I had just hours earlier opened the door when Katniss had brought in a couple of her squirrels for my father.

"Hey Peeta!",my eldest brother, Lorcan says as he puts a hand on my shoulder. This suddenly brings me back to Earth and realize that it must have been an hour or so since I first came down for my shift.

"Wha-what?",I reply back. Lorcan's interruption had distracted me long enough to burn the current roll I was baking.

"OOOOooooooooOOOOoooohhhhhh! Mother is NOT going to be happy when she see's this!"

"When I see what?", The short, plump woman with wrinkles perminently edged above her brow who gave birth to me and therefore I must call my mother asks angrily. Possibly she wasn't angry at all-yet, but since she always is my brother's and I have become so attuned it to it, its hard to tell if she's actually angry, or if this is just her normal tone. When she comes into view her eyes immediately zero in on me seething at me and searching for the slightest imperfection I may have created. Lorcan's clear, ice blue eyes-the same as mine, soften and with his hand still on my shoulder gives me a little squeeze, a little boost of confidence saying I've been there, sorry, and good luck. I give Lorcan the slightest of nods staring straight into his eyes speaking to him with a single look the ways only brothers can and sending him my simple message of gratitude, "thanks" before he turns and quickly exited the room.

My mother gasps as her flaming dark orbs finally land on and spot the burnt bread.

"What is this, you little brat?",she barks at me, but I don't even flinch, it's best to let her rant, rage and rave when she's on a disciplinary tirade. She rushes toward the bread baking oven and pulls out the bunt bread and proceeds to hold it up in her grubby, chubby fingers.

"You little twirp! Have you any idea how much money you just wasted me by your carelessness and foolishness?"she screams right before she strikes me upon the face. It emotionally hurts more than the actual smite, that my own mother would hit me, but I guess I should be used to this by now.

"You are an ungrateful slug that's lazy and will never amount to anything!"she her voice booms at me between slaps. She then picks up a nearby rolling-pin and starts to beat me with it. She doesn't do as much as usual-probably only because it's reaping day and she wants her family to look neat, sophisticated and well put together.

"I'm sorry mother I was being a stupid idiot as per usual." my mother nods satisfied with my apology and angrily tells me to get ready for the reaping. What she really says is "now get out of my sight and for once try to peel the grime off your body and make that hideous rats nest of hair and slimy toads butt that you call a face presentable so I won't have to be embarrassed by all of Panem because of you" but I try to look on the bright side and assume that she's just worried for me-and not a morning person or an any-time-of-day person, scratch that, let's just say that Rebecca Mellark isn't a people person.

So I do as my mother commanded and make myself a cold bath and scrub my body clean. Next, I pull out my reaping's best and put on a nice navy blue suit after ironing all the wrinkles out of it. Once I am ready, my older brother Carrick who's also eligible to compete in the games and I head towards town square for the reaping ceremony. I can just feel the butterflies in my stomach, though I don't know if it's from the seven slips of paper with my name on it or the thought that I will probably see Katniss here.

Once we check in, we are quickly ushered off into groups roped off by age and sex. As I make my over to the sixteen year old boy section, I see my best friend Delly Cartwright, I give her a friendly wave and then continue to scan the crowd for her. My heart literally stops beating when my eyes catch hers. She's so beautiful, she has her hair all done up in some elaborate fashion instead of her trademark single braid and is in a deep blue colored dress. However, my heart begins to sink when I realize that she's not looking at me, rather just past me. I turn to see who she's staring at and I guess I should have known. She's looking at Gale Hawthorne, her best friend. Shoot. Of course she wasn't looking at you, why would she? She has her eyes out for Gale, not that I blame her, why would she want me when Gale's so handsome and strong, not to mention she actually knows he exists.

'That's not true', I think. There was this one time, but it was years ago and she probably doesn't even remember. 'God Peeta, stop obsessing or you'll miss the entire reaping.'

I was so zoned out that I hadn't even realized that Effie Trinket, the district's escort, was already halfway through with her introduction. Then the mayor droned on with his annual speech and the ceremonial clip to 'remind us all of how these great festivities came about'. So I obviously tuned this out too, by thinking about what designs I'm going to put on the cakes tonight. One of the few pluses to the Hunger Games is business. Usually, after the reaping's families will buy some bread or cake to celebrate and mark yet another year that has gone by with their children being spared from the barbaric games. I focus back to the reaping once Effie starts to comment on the great graphics of the short video and makes a point of it coming all the way from the capital.

A/N: sorry how late I was:( but now I will be able post hopefully post weekly. I cut this chapter off short bc I think I kept you all waiting too long. To avoid this in the future I think I'll write shorter but more frequently updated chapters? How does this sound? P.S

I still need more capital esk names for Peeta's prep team and would love more reviews. Reviews motivate and give me more inspiration to write!


	4. Chapter 5

**Authors note: ok I know I suck for not updating lately but honestly between the massive amount of schoolwork and hurricane sandy drama I got a little off track with my regular posting. I also have had low morale and little writing inspiration from lack of reviews. It seriously feels like writing to a brick wall so please show me the love! however no am back on track now and will hopefully post more often! Enough sob story and complaining So here's your chapter yay! and I know some of u r mentally thinking 'its about time!' And I'm sorry!**

**Disclaimer- you know the drill, I don't own any HG or characters... I wish!**

I take this time to actually really look at Effie. Every year she sports a new vibrant colored wig, in attempt to stay young and in style. The capital's style that is, style within the districts is basically nonexistent whereas in the Capital, they fashion is always changing and is outrageous. Over the top body dyes, hair dyes, crazy outfits, and wild neon colors. It's always a good laugh after reapings and a sort of comic relief to see Effie's tacky bright wigs and pant suits. This year she was sporting a bright pink wig and a spring green pant suit. She and Mayor Undersee were exchanging nervous glances alternating between each other and the third empty chair. Suddenly our only alive victor, and thus only mentor stumbled onto the stage. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears to be hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. **(A/N: direct quote page 19). **He is most definitely drunk. Haymitch then tries to kiss Effie on the cheek, seeming completely confused, but Effie gracefully pushes Haymitch back down and into his own chair. The mayor at this point looking quite distressed at the moment. And I wouldn't blame him, for the whole event is being broadcasted live for the whole country. Yet again District 12 is the laughing-stock all across Panem. Poor guy, I bet it's hard being the mayor of the poorest district of the nation.

**ya I know it's short but I'm gonna be doing this more often So I can post more frequently. And when I say more frequently I really mean it this time and so I'll stop giving u guys half a55ed excuses. But I am typing this on my iPod and its kinda difficult but ill deal. Also I know some of you were concerned about my editing skills so I went back and fixed them so I hope you guys know I take your criticisms to the heart.**

**P.S**

**i reposted this chapter literally three times bc the network kept shutting down (our router died:( but we got a new one)**


	5. Chapter 6

**IM BACK! I finally had some extra time so I decided to upload a new chapter-YAY! I loved that I've gotten more reviews and may even update later this weekend, but that all depends on how many people review. I know you guys hate authors asking for reviews and that author's notes are annoying to read and nobody is probably still reading this but please review :(**

Effie is now eager to hurry up and finish the reaping ceremony after Haymitch's embarrassing debacle on stage. My stomach is churning with anticipation. It feels as if it is doing backflips. Effie slowly reaches into the girl's reaping bowl. My swirling center is making me feel nauseous and my head is spinning. My head is pounding and I can hear my rapid heartbeat in my own ears. Effie jostles around trying to pick the right slip of paper. By now, I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, thus causing my body to become antsy. I can't stop shaking and fidgeting even though I will myself to man up and not be afraid. But the truth is, I am afraid, I can feel the fear trembling in my very being, deep within my soul. Effie now selects a slip that will suffice. The anticipation is killing me and I can feel it in my bones that something profound is going to occur. All is quiet throughout the audience as we are forever waiting, waiting, waiting, still in the silence. I want to scream and cry and jump up and down all at once. Every so slowly Effie unfolds the slip from a quarter fold to a half fold until the slip is completely unfolded. I don't know what has gotten into me, but I feel as if I'm on the brink of insanity. I know that all my suffering can come to an end if only Effie would finally just announce this year's tribute. She smooths the delicate parchment over and over and OVER again until all the nonexistent wrinkles are flattened out to her liking. I feel as if she is purposely drawing out the ceremony just to make us squirm. I swear that never before has a reaping in our district taken so long. After what seems like ages, Effie finally purses her lips as she prepares to read the slip of paper. She first reads in her head and then proceeds to mouth the name as if checking the pronunciation. OH NO! SUddenly a thought of panic flashes through my mind, what if it's Katniss? I am suddenly now thankful of how long Effie dragged out the festivity. NOT KATNISS, NOT KATNISS, NOT KATNISS! All I can think and hope and pray that it's not her. Not sweet, sweet Katniss. I immediately begin to pray to a questionable God that it's not her. I wish to the heavens that her name isn't printed delicately in that wonderful, elegant handwriting of hers. I will for the card not to have the name Katniss Everdeen on its two by for parchment paper scripted so neatly. Much to my dismay, Effie now seems to believe that now is the time best fitted to read the name. Why now did she decide to quickly read out loud the card, at the height of my worry? My breaths soon become shorter and quicker to a hyperventilated state. I don't even realize that I'm Holding my breath when SHe begins to read this years tribute's name, or more appropriately this year's victims' name. Apparently the gods have decided to grant my wish, but at a heavy price, because it's not her name that is called, but ironically, her little sister.

**(Disclaimer): I don't own HG or any of HG characters**

**P.S**

**How would you guys like me to write a twilight Seth imprint fanfic? I've been thinking about it and am seriously considering starting it up:). Any requests for new fanfics?**

**3,**

**Ashlynn :)**


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